Disobedience is a Bad Trait
by s0lesurvivor
Summary: Her face was turned to the sun - skin reddened from the heat. In one hand, she had a life of mercenary work and on the other, an allegiance with the strongest force in the Commonwealth. Will it be worth it to risk it all for a life a bit more stable than that she had previously chosen?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N** : Hello, lovelies! So, this is my first fanfiction to date, fallout just gives me those feels. This is merely an introductory chapter. If it gets enough feedback, the second will be readily posted! This story is also a SS/Paladin Danse story. He was available as a character to list!

* * *

She was as keen as a cat, eyes sharp and aware of her surroundings even during the dead of night. The toxic smell of radiation still stung her lungs and left a bile taste in her mouth. The sole survivor had only been wandering the wastes for a few months now and while her tactical skills have well increased, the sting of non-fresh air has yet to grow on her. With meager fingers tucked around the barrel of her snub-nosed rifle, the sole survivor crept around a corner, her general curiosity drawing her towards the sounds of choked gurgles and firing ammunition.

What she had stumbled upon was certainly beyond her, a police station of sorts surrounded by bright, tantalizing lights and the pitter-patter of feral ghouls. Her eyes soon locked on a man clad in a full set of body armor. However, it was bigger and bulkier in frame than any type of gear she had seen so far. The group, composed of the walking tin can and two other deafening and ridiculous looking patrons appeared to be overwhelmed. They were tossed ghoul after irradiated ghoul and by the way the female's shoulders slumped, as if incapable of remaining at attention, signified her help may be needed after all. In good luck, maybe the sole survivor could pawn some caps off of the group.

Now, on her feet, the soles of her dirty shoes made loud resonances against broken apart cement and organs of various origins. She was at a full sprint, the butt of her gun tucked into her shoulder as she popped bullets precisely into the skulls of any ferals splintering off from the general group and towards her. The way her icey hues hardened showed she meant business and when the red-headed female, tiny in stature, but big in soul, came rioting from a small alley it did not fail to grab the attention of the strangers.

When she was fighting like this, the sole survivor felt as if everything moved in slow motion, an effect normally achieved by the dangerous street drug Jet. Although, to her luck, her adrenaline made the perfect mock Jet. After the fierce lone wanderer arrived, the lot was cleared in a matter of minutes. Now, with sweat beading her blemish free forehead, the woman raised an arm to sweep away the droplets.

"Thank you, stranger," his voice was gruff and the way it vibrated off the walls of his throat and past his lips made her shudder. The sternness, the no business of it - she knew immediately which one was speaking to her.

Twisting on her heels, the rifle now slung to her side in a lazed position. The survivor was panting heavily at this point, much too heavy to speak so she simply nodded her head. A cordial 'you're welcome' to his previous 'thank you'.

The way his steps thudded against the stairs leading up to the building made her eye twitch, he sounded exactly like one of those aluminum can traps if someone picked it off the ceiling and chucked it at the wall as hard as they could physically manage. Nevertheless, she tried to keep her expression relatively approachable. The man stood in front of her now, his height, let alone his frame, much larger than her own. Even then, he did not dare to look down his nose at her. She was intimidating as it was, if the paladin fueled any type of aggression within her, he might live (or die) to regret it.

"What's your name, soldier?" Soldier was the only term he could coin up, regardless of if she was a soldier or not and it made the survivor perk her head up. The paint, the outfits, the soldier comment. She felt so dumb for not realizing she was speaking to members of the Brotherhood of Steel.

"Violet," her voice was low, yet it steeled itself in her aching throat. Until now, she hadn't realized how parched she really was.

"Paladin Danse, a pleasure to make your acquaintance." And with that, Violet found herself suddenly sucked into the call to arms.


	2. Chapter 2

Inside the slightly wrecked building, the red headed woman was balanced on her toes, knees bent at the joints with her hands clasped before her. As Danse eyed the stranger up, he was impressed by how composed she was - the balance she held. His muscles burned just thinking about how hers must feel. She had sat like that for over forty-five minutes before straightening up to stretch. When she did, it became evident how slender she truly was. With her stomach exposed when her arms reached as high as they could, the Paladin made note of the small scar just beneath her navel. He would not ask, but he also would not forget.

"So, that's it?" Rhys broke the silence between all four of them now. His eyes harsh and alive with violence, a wildfire burning through his wide pupils. "Just because this female could aim down her barrel and shoot we re going to take her in to look at our plans? Have you gone nuts, Paladin? She's a mercenary, her first reaction to us was a plea for caps."

"Excuse me, but I'm standing right here," Violet's voice was much like the angsty male s before her. Hard and meaning nothing, but business. She was disgusted, yet somewhat admired the bluntness of her, unfortunately, new comrade.

"Have some respect, Knight," Danse's voice lingered in a lighter tone than the bickering of the two before him. "This female cleared a lot of ghouls all three of us were incapable of keeping at bay. She will make a fine recruit to the Brotherhood."

The thought of being part of the Brotherhood still made the woman twitch uncomfortably. If she wasn't so desperate for the hot shower and clean bed Haylen promised, Violet would have taken the caps and left. The bickering, however, was hushed soon after it started. Though, that did not keep the two of them from eyeing each other over, Rhys's steel pupils like daggers at her smooth throat.

It had been hours, or what had felt like hours, before the sole survivor was not sat on the cold, nuclear fallout stained floor - as codsworth would say. She has looked at these mapped plans until her eyes were so dry, she could hardly blink. Though, the low grumble of someone clearing their throat soon drew her attention upwards. The Paladin was standing before her, a giant hunk of scraps in all his glory. He ushered the small woman to follow and she did so rather willingly, nodding in courtesy to Haylen, yet not lingering an eye over the still injured Rhys.

Danse led the both of them up a set of winding and narrow stairs, his head craning to take backwards glances at the sole survivor every once and awhile. His lower lip twitched at the way she braced her delicate palm against the crumbling wall as they walked. The only flaw in her was the dirt under her fingernails. She was pristine, even the matted mess of her hair was impressive. The Paladin inhaled sharply through his nostrils, attempting to fill the silence and clear his mind.

"So," the tin can began with this rumble, this stupid rumble in his throat that made Violet want to collide her fist into his steel back. His voice was too harsh, it reminded her of Nate. She didn't want to think of Nate, not now and not ever again. After finding out about her son, the corruption, the wasteland in general, the last thing the fiery haired woman wanted to do was think about how things were back then. Not like they were ever that great.

Her thoughts had her wondering and she found her head snapping upwards when Paladin Danse uttered a, "Do you understand?"

"Uh, no. Could you repeat that?" And he did so without fault, as if she was truly confused and not as if she had never paid attention to her in the first place. He briefed her on Maxson s request for her presence and the Prydwen. Though, half the time, she began to wander into her thoughts again. She questioned whether Danse was truly as big as his power armor conveyed or if he was a scrawny shrimp beneath its surface.

A snort sounded off behind him and the blood in his veins began to boil. While he was not sure what she thought was so humorous about joining a cause that may take her life, he would not tolerate such disrespect. "Is something funny about this, Soldier?" His voice was bland, yet rough. As if taking hold of her by her edges and shaking her violently.

When he turned to look at her, the snarky glint of her dark eyes and the half-assedly way she shrugged her shoulder made his whole body stiffen. This girl, this girl was going to be a handful.


End file.
